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larryhammerFor Poetry Monday, back to this guy who wrote poems only during WWI.
Rain, Edward Thomas
Rain, midnight rain, nothing but the wild rain
On this bleak hut, and solitude, and me
Remembering again that I shall die
And neither hear the rain nor give it thanks
For washing me cleaner than I have been
Since I was born into solitude.
Blessed are the dead that the rain rains upon:
But here I pray that none whom once I loved
Is dying tonight or lying still awake
Solitary, listening to the rain,
Either in pain or thus in sympathy
Helpless among the living and the dead,
Like a cold water among broken reeds,
Myriads of broken reeds all still and stiff,
Like me who have no love which this wild rain
Has not dissolved except the love of death,
If love it be towards what is perfect and
Cannot, the tempest tells me, disappoint.
I remember rain. We had some once -- it's that water that falls from the sky. That was a while ago. Not as long ago as Thomas, though.
---L.
Subject quote from "Onto a Vast Plain," Rainer Maria Rilke tr. Joanna Macy & Anita Barrows.
Rain, Edward Thomas
Rain, midnight rain, nothing but the wild rain
On this bleak hut, and solitude, and me
Remembering again that I shall die
And neither hear the rain nor give it thanks
For washing me cleaner than I have been
Since I was born into solitude.
Blessed are the dead that the rain rains upon:
But here I pray that none whom once I loved
Is dying tonight or lying still awake
Solitary, listening to the rain,
Either in pain or thus in sympathy
Helpless among the living and the dead,
Like a cold water among broken reeds,
Myriads of broken reeds all still and stiff,
Like me who have no love which this wild rain
Has not dissolved except the love of death,
If love it be towards what is perfect and
Cannot, the tempest tells me, disappoint.
I remember rain. We had some once -- it's that water that falls from the sky. That was a while ago. Not as long ago as Thomas, though.
---L.
Subject quote from "Onto a Vast Plain," Rainer Maria Rilke tr. Joanna Macy & Anita Barrows.
no subject
Date: 15 May 2017 03:27 pm (UTC)He dies in WW1 too :o(
My own favourite of his is this one:
TALL nettles cover up, as they have done
These many springs, the rusty harrow, the plough
Long worn out, and the roller made of stone:
Only the elm butt tops the nettles now.
This corner of the farmyard I like most:
As well as any bloom upon a flower
I like the dust on the nettles, never lost
Except to prove the sweetness of a shower.
no subject
Date: 15 May 2017 05:57 pm (UTC)My favorite is "The Owl"
no subject
Date: 15 May 2017 04:18 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 15 May 2017 05:56 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 16 May 2017 03:34 am (UTC)Is dying tonight or lying still awake
Solitary, listening to the rain
That is the part that sticks with me, the hinge.
no subject
Date: 16 May 2017 03:43 pm (UTC)